


Point of Contact

by dreamingofawolf (rl4sb4eva)



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: BDSM, Caning, Crying, M/M, Punishment, Self-Flagellation, Slight Choking, blood mention, dom!hux, sub!Kylo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 11:05:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6151621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rl4sb4eva/pseuds/dreamingofawolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Thirty.” Hux says, smoothing his hands together, removing imaginary wrinkles in his shiny leather gloves, before shoving the sleeves of his uniform undershirt up to his elbows.</p><p>“Thirty? I don’t…”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Point of Contact

**Author's Note:**

  * For [echoist (griesly)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/griesly/gifts).



“Thirty.” Hux says, smoothing his hands together, removing imaginary wrinkles in his shiny leather gloves, before shoving the sleeves of his uniform undershirt up to his elbows.

“Thirty? I don’t…” Kylo’s throat clicks as he swallows. Eyes meeting Hux’s. He shakes his head slightly, biting his lip as a little voice in the back of his head tries to point out he should have the power in this situation. Even standing toe to toe he’s bigger, taller, wider, and Hux is sitting down, leaning back in his office chair, the worn fabric creaking slightly as he shifts. His feet up on the desk, shoes shiny and crossed at the ankle on the brushed steel. He’s looking up through his eyelashes at Kylo, and Kylo wants to drops to his knees and beg for whatever forgiveness he can get. The urge to look away overwhelming.

“You don’t what?” Hux lifts his chin slightly, pointing his toes towards Kylo and smirking.

“I don’t think…”

“Well, that’s rather the problem isn’t it. You never think further than 3 seconds. Thirty. You’ve got three minutes to start or you can leave. Your choice Ren.” Hux picks up his datapad and ignores Kylo, swiping through messages and papers calmly and deliberately.

Kylo’s throat closes at the thought of turning around and leaving, hand spasming on his mask and feet refusing to move. He drops the mask, flinching slightly at the loud clang it gives hitting the floor, and his hands shake as they pull apart his belt buckle, and struggle to pull off his clothes. Dropping the fabric to puddle on the floor over the mask.

Hux coughs slightly and meets Kylo’s eyes briefly before he pointedly looks at the pile of fabric and back up. Returning to his messages as Kylo scoops the bundle up and starts to fold it into some semblance of ordered and puts it on a chair against the wall, mask turned to face the back of it and on top. He finally lets his eyes linger on the thin cane on the desk, lying there on the edge closest to him. His breath catches at the small flecks that stain it’s length and he takes a deep breath as he steps forward and leans over the desk, forearms pressed to the cold surface.

He closes his eyes briefly, concentrating on the cane, gripping it with the Force and lifting it from the desk slowly, and he misses Hux’s foot move slightly, freezing when the point of his shoe presses into the soft underside of Kylo’s chin. His eyes open as Hux nudges his head up so their eyes meet, bending his ankle slightly to pull Kylo’s head forward and closer. The first time Hux has touched him this evening, and Kylo breathes out slowly, watching as his breath condenses on the shiny leather, quickly evaporating away again as if it was never there, and he knows that it’ll be the only touch he gets until he’s finished.

“Count them down for me, would you? So I can keep track, make sure they all count.” Kylo wants to laugh at the way Hux makes it sound like a request, light and trilling almost, but his voice catches in his throat, stuck against the toe of Hux’s boot.

The cane twitches in the air as he moves it into the right position, trying to meet Hux’s eyes as they slide past him to the perfectly placed mirror next to the entryway, and he has an absurd memory of pushing the desk into the right position so that it would line up perfectly. 

He takes another breath, in through his nose, out through his lips as he swings, the stroke precise and straight across both cheeks, driving the end of the breath out in a rush as he sways forward slightly, gasping out “Thirty.” And he feels the slight warmth in his stomach as he watches Hux’s lip twitch up into a smile.

The pain is sharp, focused and then it starts to spread, a creeping bearable heat, and he gets the first twist of dread in his stomach at the thought of the way it’ll spread. The way the burn will increase as he forces the cane to swing again, slightly below the first line and parallel to it, as the heat starts to blur, the gasp slightly louder as he forces the count out. “Twenty nine.”

Hux’s gloves creak slightly as he lets his hands twitch against his lap, datapad ignored as he stares at the mirror.

Kylo shouts finally at “twenty two” voice cracking enough that Hux looks at him, the beginnings of tears at the corner of his eyes, Hux’s boot digs further into his chin as he tries to let his head hand forward. The cane trembling in the air whenever he’s not striking it down, and Hux wants to reach out, push his hair back from his forehead. He stares back into the mirror and watches as the eight dark red stripes become nine. Kylo’s concentration off as the tip of the cane catches his skin and rips it. Blood welling up in the small cut, as Hux hears “twenty one” and the crack of another strike.

The blood drips down, spattering slightly and making the cane shine in patches as it catches the low light. As Kylo lifts it again and strikes.

“You didn’t count. Now how will I keep track?” The first tear leaves Kylo’s eye, trailing down his cheek in a sick mirroring of the blood trickle down his pale thigh. “Where were we?”

“Twenty.” Kylo gasps out. Pressing his eyes closed briefly.

“Good. Maybe vary the pattern slightly, a few angled strokes don’t you think? You’re going to run out of room if you keep going down, and that just wouldn’t do, now would it, Ren?”

Kylo swings the cane again, letting it fall over all the other stripes and choking on the spit in his throat as he tries to scream at the burn, ignoring the red that flashes behind his eyes as he manages to force “nineteen” past his teeth and strikes again, hitting the same line, feeling the tears spill down his face as he shifts forward. Wanting to let his head fall to the desk, so Hux can’t see him, can’t watch the tears spill and stop them from landing on the General’s boots.

The next two fall too fast, and he garbles the numbers, losing the control he needs to hold the cane still at all between swings, as it drops a foot before he manages to catch it and swing again. He calls “eighteen” knowing they didn’t count before Hux can reprimand him, and he only just catches the flash of enjoyment and pride Hux gives out.

He somehow makes it to “eleven” before the cane hits the floor, and he freezes as it clatters in the quiet of the room. “Oh, Ren. That just won’t do. Pick it back up.”

Kylo manages to get it level with his hip, eyes closed as he hears Hux shift in his chair, the boot momentarily digging in slightly to pull him forward again.

“Five extra, or five across your hole, your choice, Ren.” Kylo chokes, body twitching as the words finally sink through the fog in his brain, too focused on holding the cane still to register them for a few seconds.

He tries to lift his arms from the desk, sweat slick and stuck to the metal and weak at the shoulders, and finally gets his brain together enough to hold the cane up, and get his arms behind him, his weight falling forward slightly onto that single point of contact between him and Hux’s boot, and the pressure in his head growing as his air gets restricted by the angle and the press. He curves his fingers into the flesh of his ass and spreads himself open, hissing at the pain that floods up through him, making his muscles shift and twitch to try and move away, more tears clumping in his lashes and falling onto the boots and the desk with little splatters.

Kylo gets the cane into position, entirely unsure how he manages to get the lining up right and brings it down hard across his exposed hole and the sensitive skin below it, he screams. The pain shoving in and up and forcing his breath out in a howl as he spasms, one hand slipping and dragging over the stripes to make him cry out again, softer but still the cry of a wounded animal, mewling and pathetic to his own ears as he fights to get the grip back. His sweat soaked hands pressing salt into the cane strokes and smearing the few dots of blood over his skin, and he opens his eyes to see Hux lick his lips, eyes fixed on the mirror.

He lines up again, knows the cane is shaking wildly, and starts to swing it down as Hux breathes out “oh Kylo” and his brain loses the thread, the cane swings and he brings it down across the knuckles of his hand. Swearing and coughing as his fingers burn, barely managing to keep his hold on his own lined skin as his hand trembles.

“Nine.” He breathes out, trying to flex his fingers without moving the flesh they’re holding and shivering and whimpering as it tugs.

“Doesn’t count. Again, please.” Kylo wants to scream, wants to stand up and walk out, but he doesn’t know if his knees will work properly and he’s barely managing to think beyond numbers as it is. Doesn’t know if he can make it to the door before his legs give out and he ends up sobbing on the floor.

He lines it up again, feels the end of the cane brush against his hole as he lifts it up and brings it down, fighting to keep his chest off the desk. Crying freely as he gasps out “nine” again, and manages to bring it down again, a perfect line over his skin, the end of the cane curving enough that it barely misses the sensitive skin of his sac, and Kylo feels it brush against the hairs.

He pushes it slightly higher for the next stroke, gasping out “seven” before letting it fall again as his knees give out and he barely manages to catch himself on his hands. Gasping and twitching when his sweat slicked skin closes over the strokes, his ass burning as he manages to hold his position. Body shifting restlessly as he cries, and his lips soundlessly mouthing the word ‘sorry’ as he lifts the cane again and lets it fall across the crease of his thigh. The skin unmarred until now, but sensitive and warm from the strokes near it and he regrets it as soon as it hits, knowing he’ll feel the pull there for days afterwards, choking out a hysterical laugh as he thinks he’ll feel everything for days afterwards.

When he finally spits “one” out into the air between them, he can’t see for the tears in his eyes, can’t think beyond the burning, and his hands are slipping on the desktop.

As it falls he screams, body spasming and then freezing as Hux’s hand grabs his chin and Kylo hears the sound of his feet hitting the floor, gasping in air as the pressure under his chin relents and Hux holds him up as he kisses him. Hard press of lips against his open mouth, before Hux’s tongue slips in to tangle with his and a hand clenches in his sweat soaked and curled hair, holding his head still so Hux can claim him. The kiss tastes of salt as Kylo keeps crying, the pain twitching up through him with every breath it seems, and he lets his chest rest against the top of the desk, breathing heavily when Hux pulls away enough to let him.

“Good, you were so good, so good.” Hux kisses him again, still muttering reassurances and ‘Kylo, fuck, Kylo’ into Kylo’s mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is unbeta'ed and is not my fault. Entirely not my fault. If you see any issues, please let me know... :)


End file.
